


Poet

by pennylehane



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Canon Era, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mention of Whip, Period clothing, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennylehane/pseuds/pennylehane
Summary: The canvas ruffles of the poet's shirt fell down around him in a mockery of modesty, the touch of the ribbon lacings suddenly tangible on the skin of his back as they were pulled down.Something sensual about a poet's blouse. Something that made John notice the little things-- the scent of smoke from the candles, the little hitch in Lafayette's breath when he turned to a certain angle. He loved it.





	Poet

**Author's Note:**

> Note tags + warning.

The billowy poet’s blouse was oddly rough and heavy, closing around his wrists with the gentle scratch of rope. Despite the weight of fabric, it was loose and hanging open, letting the smokey scent of candle wicks twist and twine around John’s bare torso, a sense of weightlessness that made the collar around his neck seem to bite all the more viciously. Hot leather against bitten skin, sweat making it grip. He rolled the hem of the shirt between his fingertips.

The whip tapped warningly at his chin. “Eyes up, cher.”

John lifted his head obediently, curls pouring back over his ears. Lafayette was so tall, from down here. The cream fabric of his britches looked so _soft_ , so smooth, tight over lean muscled thighs where John wanted to lean forwards and rub his cheek against them like a cat in heat. And then further up, the cropped line of his coat, dark and smart and buttoned all the way up, unruffled and perfect. Joh wanted to cringe at the sight, to hide himself, or better yet to leap up and rip at the fabric, pin Lafayette down and—

His heart quailed at the thought as he saw Lafayette’s face. Perfectly composed. Hair tied neatly back. Looking down at John, centred perfectly by the easy stretch of his arm and the whip still pressing at John’s jaw.

He kept tilting his head back, neck baring, arching almost painfully, until his back started to bend and the pressure vanished. The whip trailed slowly, meanderingly downwards. It was smooth, well-oiled leather, perfectly warm and dry, but it seemed to leave a trail of tingling stains on his skin. Patterns drawn in hot charcoal, or with a chunk of tinted ice; some strange dye invisible to all but Lafayette, residues of gunpowder brought to life by candle-flames, or sparks escaped from a blacksmith’s forge.

John did not squirm.

Lafayette seemed fascinated by his work, almost dreaming, not once glancing up to John’s face until he traced over a nipple and John found a breathy little gasp slipping through his lips.

“Patience, mon petit,” Lafayette murmured. He let the whip fall to rest on John’s thigh, hideously distracting, enchanting.

Candle flames flickered. “I’m sorry.”

One eyebrow cocked. Watching.

“Sir!” John added, late, shoulders curling in with almost frightened tremors, what he would have called frightened tremors of forced to name them, the lightning chill of anticipation skimming over his skin.

Lafayette crouched, a soft smile breaking over his lips like the first cresting wave of a storm. The whip skittered a little, tickling, as he moved to support himself, his weight pressing into the flesh of John’s thigh. He hooked a finger through the collar. “Do we need to discuss your manners, mon cher?”

“No, sir,” John whispered. It was hardly even a collar at all. One long strip of tempered leather, worn from use, wrapped and knotted around his throat and checked as one might a horse’s tack, Lafayette’s long finger sliding up so that it was choked and taut.

He hummed. “I am not sure, petit. How am I to know that you respect my--” he jerked the collar “—authority?”

John choked, gasping. Eyes rolled up in throes of terrified delight. When Lafayette released him, he slumped, moaned. Opened his eyes.

Lafayette regarded him with blown dark eyes, lips still twisted up in that gentle smile. “I do not think that is how you thank me, when I give you something.”

“No, sir.” Shame, hot and smooth as lava, coiling eager in his gut. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I know you are, petit.”

Fire-tight, finger crooking through the collar again, pulling him up and forwards. He followed, feeling blind even as he watched Lafayette’s shoulders move when he turned, and the play of candlelight on his skin where it was jewelled with beads of sweat. The collar pulled him to the bed, and onto it.

Kneeling on the bed, John gaze fell just upon Lafayette’s collarbones. Prominent, sharp looking, wanting him to bite them. He lowered his gaze to the safety of the whip. Still tracing little patterns on his thigh. Inching its way up. He whined.

Lafayette laughed, low and rich, building from an almost-growl at the base of his throat. “Is there something you want, mon cher?”

“Yes, sir,” John whispered, hungry, terrified, eagerness pulsing at the top of his throat. The base of his spine. The coil of the whip touched his cock, and he gasped.

It was gone, Lafayette pulling away, the tide crashing down. “Non. You have your lessons to attend, petit.”

“Yes, sir.” John’s spine straightened, the shirt skimming over his thighs, brushing at his ass, running over his collar roughly and catching on the leather. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

Lafayette eyed him for a long moment. Perhaps assessing his honesty, or enjoying the view. Perhaps deciding on exactly what to do with the boy gazing up at him. “Hands and knees,” he said eventually.

Despite Lafayette’s steady tone, John scrambled to obey, almost entangling himself in the sheets in his rush. The canvas ruffles of the poet's shirt fell down around him in a mockery of modesty, the touch of the ribbon lacings suddenly tangible on the skin of his back as they were pulled down. Even knowing it was covered, he arched his spine, pushed out his hips, tilted his head back and spread his knees. Poised himself at his most pleasing.

“I am glad to see that you to not forget all that I have taught you.” A shift of weight, tipping under John as Lafayette climbed up beside him and he was set adrift. A hand came down over his buttocks.

He yelped. Lafayette’s fingers were long and skilful, massaging the flesh of his ass with an almost absent air. John arched up into the touch, whining when the hand withdrew.

“I have already asked you for patience, mon petit.” Lafayette’s hand returned, this time slick and oily, ghosting over John’s flash to rest the pad of one fingertip over his hole. “Now, what do you say.”

Drawing in a breath, a slow stuttering trial. “Please, sir.”

His reward, almost immediate. Lafayette’s finger, moving desolately slow, twisting and hooking. “And?”

“Thank you, sir.”

"Good boy." Pleasure shocked, ice-hot, up from one perfect touch straight down his cock and through his every nerve. Lafayette kept rubbing, agonising little circles in that one perfect point, until John was keening and whimpering, wordless.

At one encouraging hum, he remembered. “Please, sir. More, sir.”

“Non. You will show me you can be grateful, before you may have another of my fingers.” Lafayette’s voice was level, and smooth, infuriatingly perfect.

John whimpered, understanding. “You hand, sir, please, I can’t do it--”

“You can.” Simple. Inarguable. Desperate, panting, almost sobbing, John rutted helplessly against the air between his legs. One hand crept up, and slammed back into place at the first breath of an admonishment. A punishing swat to his thigh with the coiled whip.

With one screechy little moan, he came. One stern hand on his hip held him up where he went to sag against the bed. “Sir?”

“You are being so good, but still I think you may need a little more practise,” Lafayette said, slowly, almost humming more than speaking. Distracted. Another finger traced delicately at the sensitive skin behind John’s balls, the other still moving slowly inside him. “Are you going to ask nicely?”

His throat went dry. “Please, sir.”

Lafayette gave him the second finger, and brought him to climax again. A third finger. A fourth. Each climax shakier, more dreadful, perfect, exhausting, exhilarating. The collar a halo like a noose around his neck.

“Can you ask me for one more, mon trésor? Can you take one more?”

John hesitated, even in the swirling storm of sensation leaving his skin racked with staccato shivers. “No, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

He wanted to be good. Almost in tears, he whispered, “Yes, sir.”

Lafayette withdrew his hand. For one, horrible moment, John was sure he had failed. Then strong arms were wrapping around him, scooping him up onto his back and tugging him into Lafayette’s lap. A rustle of clothing above him, and Lafayette’s coat was covering him. Slick, clever fingers working at the collar’s rough knot. A whisper-- "Good boy, my good boy, so perfect for me, mon cher..."

“Thank you, sir.”

“None of that.” Soft full lips brushed against his brow, the collar sliding away, Lafayette’s heartbeat steady in his ear where he rested snug against his chest. “You are my friend, and my lover. There will be none of this.”

John preened, bumping up until Lafayette pressed another kiss against his crown. In a moment, he would turn and kiss him properly. In a moment. For now, he was warm, content to be held and cradled like a child. Lafayette pulled a wet cloth from where he had left it by the foot of the bed, well used to John’s confused sleepiness, and began to mop them both up so that they could rest.

Lafayette lay down with him, holding John to his chest, rocking him gently to sleep. The strip of leather that served as a collar lay forgotten at the foot of the bed, tangled between their legs, binding them together.

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt, check out my tumblr for details, or to send one of your own. Outfits and inspiration can be found [here](http://readytobebolder.tumblr.com/post/160090811612/because-b-saw-these-while).


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